The Designated Mourner (1997)

Some people just don't get it....
Okay. Most of the people complaining about this movie act as if the MOVIE failed because they fail to take it seriously.

Yes, it's three actors talking directly to the camera for 90 minutes.

Get over it.

Yes, Wallace Shawn is not exactly the person to write an obit on the death of High Culture. And one reviewer is right to say the main character is just a pretentious faker (like Shawn?!).

And no, no one appoints that character the designated mourner for Western Culture--no one but himself.

But this film is also about despotism, and how quickly the life of the mind is snuffed out by politicians who put limits on expression.

The movie is a fascinating allegory. Yes, it's conflicted. Growing up with the inheritance of The New Yorker, no less, Shawn must be terribly conflicted about Cult-chya. But so is our society as a whole.

That's the worst thing about these other reviews. Even the writers who realize the film's about the various 'brows'--highbrow, lowbrow, etc.--fail to recognize how complexly the film negotiates these choppy cultural waters.

I adore Miranda Richardson. She's the perfect self-aware victim here--brittle but not shrill (as she can be).

Mike Nichols is indeed a revelation. He can do about ten layers of irony wrapped in sarcasm underneath hatred etc.

And if you don't want to think or be challenged, see another movie.

If you watch this one in the right frame of mind, it will really touch you deeply AND make you think.

And Pauline Kael in her last interview said it was an overlooked gem. So I'm right.

I know it's childish, but it's how I feel.

Can you say pretentious?
It's time someone gave this pretentious film the panning it so richly deserves. First of all, let me say that I have nothing against Wallace Shawn or talkative films - I rather enjoyed "My Dinner With Andre," which somehow manages to hold the viewer's interest with its interesting dialogue and enjoyable setting. This film, however, is a yawn, and it doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense either. Throughout the movie we mostly see three things - the faces of the three characters talking, in front of some nameless postmodern background. As if this weren't visually boring enough, things get worse when we have to use our ears. Each in turn, the characters spew a lot of ridiculous monologues at the viewer in affected, self-serious voices. Somehow this is all supposed to tie together into one of the characters appointing himself the "designated mourner" for western culture (though why this random fool should matter to us in any way is never clearly explained.) All I can say is that if western culture is dead, it was this film that killed it.

how many times one can go in circles
not being sure what/whom lead some to argue about the protagonist's transition from high- to low-brow. if this transition had anything to do with this movie it must have happened before since jack is nothing else but a pretentious low-brow pal who's faking his way around. otherwise a nerve-test: excellent interpretation around a low screenplay.